Surfacing
by Riya Morut
Summary: Two Mandalorian women find themselves on the journey of a lifetime when they find a stranger tied up in the cargo hold.  Who is this girl, and how is she connected with the rest of their family?  My character story for the Mandalorian Mercs.  All OCs.
1. Prologue

Prologue

There was darkness.

She felt more than heard a low hum, reverberating through the air, the floor, through her. _I feel _something, she reflected. _That must mean I'm not dead_. That didn't quite answer the question of what exactly she was, though. While feeling alive was definitely preferable to the alternative, she wasn't sure she wanted to feel anything at all. As soon as she thought about it all she felt was pain, and possibly confusion.

_Where am I?_

She tried to take in her surroundings, but there was little to behold. She seemed to be cramped underneath some machinery; it was too dark to tell what kind it might be. She was becoming convinced that it was mechanical, since that reinforced the idea that the humming was coming from outside her head rather than in it.

It was good to focus on facts. It helped dull the ringing in her head.

Ah, that was it: her head was ringing. The ship was humming.

Wait a minute. Why was she on a ship?

How did she know what a ship sounded like?

And why was her head ringing?

Just what exactly was going on?

She tried to sit up, but hit her temple on a pipe and yelped loudly. Neither the impact nor the noise helped improve the state of her head. She tried to cradle it in her hands to dull the ringing, but discovered those were tied in front of her.

_Am I a prisoner?_

That would explain the dark, her hands, and the pain. But why was she a prisoner? What had she done? She wracked her brains for any clue, but the thinking just made her head hurt, and then she couldn't remember anything.

There was...a man? Maybe two. And...what else?

But try as she might, no memory surfaced.

Well, there was only one thing for it. She didn't know if it would be better to stay silent or not, but the sooner she saw her captors, the sooner she might remember what exactly was going on. She mentally prepared her head to hurt some more, filled her lungs, and yelled.


	2. Chapter 1

Forgot to put the standard disclaimers before the prologue, so here they are now: I do not own Star Wars. That belongs to George Lucas. I also do not own any of the Mandalorian language seen in subsequent chapters; _that _belongs to Karen Traviss. However, I do own my characters, so please do nothing with them without my permission. That being said, enjoy, and please review!

Chapter One

"You kriffing carbon flush! Get your hands off me! LET ME GO!"

Aryn's captive had a set of lungs on her. Next time she would remember a blindfold _and _a gag.

"Are you finished?" Aryn asked. She hoped her grip on the woman's arms left bruises. "There's no one but me to hear you, you know. All you're doing is wasting your breath."

"I have rights, you filthy _shag_!" she screamed. Aryn could see how the woman had gotten out of sticky situations before; she was wriggling so much it was hard to keep a good grip on her. Even the stun cuffs weren't helping much. "What have I done?" she shouted. "Get—your—hands—"

Aryn should have been prepared for what came next, but it still caught her by surprise, probably because she hadn't expected the woman to be that stupid. Syilena twisted out of her grip and angled herself so that her forehead landed directly onto Aryn's helmet. How she could do that blindfolded, Aryn had no idea, but the impressive aim didn't change the fact that it was idiotic to head butt _beskar_. The impact dazed Syilena long enough for Aryn to drag her the last several paces into the ship's improvised holding cell.

"You kriffing, bounty-hunting _scum_," Syilena moaned as Aryn secured the stun cuffs to the bunk and cranked up the voltage. "What did I ever do to you?"

"Nothing to me personally. But thanks to you I have a few friends who are widows. Play innocent all you want. You're a con artist and a murderer, and I will be _happy _to turn you over to Tursoa."

That name had an effect on Syilena. She was a dark-skinned woman, so her loss of color was _noticeable_. "You're taking me to _him_?" she said, staying cool but not quite managing to hide the quiver in her voice.

"Yes. You're going to Tursoa," Aryn replied. She didn't even try to hide her satisfaction. "He's offering five hundred credits. That's quite an amount for a lowlife like you. Do I get the full story, or do I have to wonder what you did to tick him off so badly?"

Syilena didn't answer, and Aryn left her there to fret. She kept the tough façade up until the door closed, and then the grin she'd been trying to keep out of her voice crept onto her face. Now that the hard part was over it was time to meet up with her saviors.

She slipped off her helmet before she ducked her head into the cockpit. "You two sure cut it close, you know that?" she said.

"Come here, _ad'ika_," Maris said. "Before you get indignant you'd better give your _buir_ a kiss!"

Aryn laughed and threw her arms around her mother. Their armor clanked together as Maris held her tight. They hadn't seen each other for the better part of six months, and she had missed her family terribly. "Kale, has my mother gone crazy without me?" Aryn asked, still locked in Maris's arms. "Or have you been able to keep her occupied?"

Kale chuckled as she got up from the pilot's seat. "She's been all right. I'm the one who's going crazy. Maris can't play pazaak to save her life." She reached over to grip Aryn's forearm in time-honored Mando fashion, but then gave in to a hug. "_Shab_,it's good to see you again, kid. Don't stay gone so long next time," she said.

Maris finally let go of her daughter long enough to look at her closely. She would always be a mother first. "You look healthy enough. Full meals, I take it?" she asked.

"Of course, Ma."

Kale frowned fiercely. "So you can eat well. Great. But did we teach you nothing? Why can't you get that woman across the galaxy yourself?" she asked. "Did you really need us, or did you just miss us enough to call us to do your job for you? Because either way, you're paying for fuel." For all their severity, Kale's words lacked any sting. The twinkle in her eyes gave it away.

"I would help pay for fuel if you wouldn't harass me about it," Aryn said. "But since my partner and I went our separate ways, I'm lacking in the transportation department. As much as I missed you both…yes, I did need help."

"Why did you and Tenk go your separate ways?" Maris asked. "I thought he needed a tech on board."

"He did, but he needed a mechanic, too, and he only had money to pay one," Aryn said. "There was a Rodian last planetfall that fit the bill for both. Tenk was nice enough to drop me where I wanted, but it was pretty clear he wanted me gone." Aryn inched towards the bench behind the copilot's seat. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, she was bone tired.

"I thought you were doing strictly tech stuff, Aryn," Kale said while Aryn settled onto the bench. "Hacking and information trading and such. When did you start bounty hunting with _people_?"

"When it got easy…and personal," Aryn said. It felt _good _to sit down. When she got the pay for this job, new boots would be the first purchase. "Syilena pretty much dropped in my lap, and it was an opportunity I couldn't pass up. That woman is the one who scammed Korvith for everything he had and then killed him when she wrung him dry. I need to call Jardra. She'll be happy to hear the news."

"Wait, who are Korvith and Jardra?" Kale asked. "I can't keep all your friends straight."

"They were a married couple on Nar Shadaa," Aryn said. "They took me in for a while when…well, after Dad died, when I went a little crazy."

Maris didn't say anything, but the haunted look in her eyes was enough to make Aryn want to melt into the floor. She never wanted her mother to feel that way again. She plowed on with her explanation before anyone could interrupt.

"Syilena tried to set them up in a business venture, but Jardra said no. I don't know all the details, and I suspect some infidelity was involved…but the last I heard was that Korvith was murdered, Jardra was inconsolable, and that piece of scum in the back of the ship was making her way around the galaxy on their life savings," Aryn finished.

"Well, if you're going to make any calls, do it now before we lift off," Kale said. "When you said we were going back to Elshandruu Pica your mother and I made some reservations. We intend to keep them."

"Wait, _what_?" Aryn asked. She stared at her mother in shock. Maris's face was a study in suppressed mirth. "The only things on Elshandruu Pica are organized crime and health resorts, and you two don't do either."

"Normally, no," Maris said. "But Kale decided that we need some happy memories of the place, and since business has been good, we decided to treat ourselves."

"I understand treating yourselves, but why not buy a new ship? Or upgrades for this one? Or upgrades for _armor_?"

"Because we already got most of what we need for the time being," Kale answered. "And Aryn, women who are tough as nails are still _women_. We handle pain and stress better than most, but still…it'll be nice to have someone else pamper us for a couple of days. Getting those toxins out of our systems will be good for us. It'll let us live long enough to bother you in our dotage."

Aryn turned skeptical eyes on her aunt. "Who are you and what have you done with Kale?" she asked.

"Kale is currently waiting for clearance to take this ship off a dirtball. But she can take a message," Kale said, deadpan.

Aryn didn't know whether to be relieved or concerned. Kale shunned anything feminine the way some beings avoided manure. _Things must have gone really bad for Ma if Kale is going to act like a female_.Aryn vowed to spend some quality time with her mother in the next few days. In the wake of everything that had happened, and especially considering their current destination, it was the least that Maris deserved.

"Well, am I included in this trip?" she finally asked.

Maris grinned. "It wouldn't be the same without you."

Aryn would try to make her mother happy. It was the least she could do.

* * *

It was several hours and mugs of Corellian brandy later that Kale finally made her way to her cabin to get some space and clear her head. Aryn and Maris deserved some mother-daughter time, and she wanted some sleep, but first she needed some time to herself. The onslaught of memories waiting for them would not be pleasant. It was best to make some peace with the past before they touched down.

She still wasn't sure that even setting foot on the planet's soil was a smart move. Despite their investigations, they didn't know exactly why or how Les had died. They just knew it had happened on Elshandruu Pica, and that one of the gangs had been involved. Kale knew that the risks were pretty great, but the potential benefits were hefty, too. Visiting memorials was cathartic. Mandalorians didn't have memorials, or even graves, but that didn't mean they didn't need closure, and Maris seemed to need it more than most. Her husband's death had shaken her to her core.

_Who am I kidding?_ Kale thought to herself. _Les was my brother. His death messed me up, too_.

It would be easier if they knew what had happened. Kale was sure there were more clues out there, and that was half her reason for visiting. Kale hadn't spelled out her motives specifically, but she knew Maris and Aryn had already guessed. If they had Aryn with them, they would have twice the tech expertise. Kale still had a few useful contacts, and at least one person who owed her a favor.

They would enjoy themselves; she hadn't been lying when she said they needed good memories of the place. But there was no reason why they couldn't make any inroads on what had happened to her brother.

She was happy that Aryn seemed to be coping better. Kale and her brothers had lost their mother early in life, early enough that only Clent remembered her well. Kale wondered if eighteen was a better or worse time to lose a parent. Aryn would always have her memories of her father to cherish, but she would have to deal with the pain the rest of her life, too.

Kale said Les's name to herself as she felt herself drifting off to sleep. "You're not forgotten," she murmured. "We'll find out who's behind this. And we'll make them pay."

It was a comforting thought to sleep with.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"Mama, I need your opinion."

Anamalysa Cordorvor barely glanced up from her desk as Anamariya edged into her office. "What about?"

"My concert," her daughter said quietly. "Are you sure I'm ready?"

Malysa decided to set her work aside for a minute. Her appointments today were important, but it seemed that Mariya's lack of self-esteem was the more pressing matter at the moment. She turned a piercing gaze on her daughter.

"Mariya, how long have you prepared for this?"

"Six months," she said, tucking a curl behind her ear. "Or something like that."

"And how long ago did you perfect the material?"

"Three months ago, maybe? I forget."

Malysa raised an eyebrow. "And you think you're not ready because…?"

Mariya plopped herself down onto the couch next to her mother's desk, her hazel eyes filled with worry. "Things change when you have an audience. Things go wrong that never went wrong before," she said. "What if I break a string? What if my voice cracks? Or the weather changes, and I can't play in tune?"

"Don't you _dare _start on the what-ifs," Malysa countered. "You have a gift, and you have the self-confidence to use it! You _love _performing! Why are all these doubts appearing now?"

"Because the concert is two days away, those other performances were for much smaller audiences, and one of my strings _did _break five minutes ago," Mariya said. "Not to mention that I'm the youngest player to ever give a concert this long that has both voice and mandoviol. My stomach keeps jumping around every time I think of it."

Malysa sighed. "You don't know that you're the youngest. Your teacher told you that, and he does tend to exaggerate," she said. "You won't do yourself any favors by panicking. Quit thinking of all the things that could go wrong and focus on what you know you can do right. If you are feeling that worked up right now, then go change the string and take a break. "

Mariya perked up. "Could we get lunch together?"

"No. I have a meeting in thirty minutes. So…I'm sorry, dear, but you need to go so I can be prepared," Malysa said.

Mariya nodded. The girl was learning to hide disappointment well. "Of course. But can we have dinner tonight?"

"Maybe." Malysa offered her a thin-lipped smile. "You know I don't _like _to blow you off, don't you? Just because I'm busy it doesn't mean I don't like to spend time with you. I feel like you're growing up too fast."

"I'm only sixteen," Mariya said. "There'll be more time to watch me get older. You can lecture me about dangerous men and everything."

Malysa chuckled. "If you ever have children you will understand how funny that statement is. Now, out you go. I still have a report to read."

Mariya bounced out of the room and left a ringing silence behind. _All the better. _Malysa loved her daughter, but a little quiet contemplation was called for right now.

Malysa had always been careful about the way she did business. In recent years she had even grown a conscience, although Mariya had a lot to do with that development. Her daughter's constant idealism made some of Malysa's shady dealings downright unpleasant to think about. But shady or not, she had always kept tidy records—even thought they could incriminate her. Those records were serving her well right now.

_I know you're out to get me. If I can look back through and find my blind spots, I can see where you'll angle in._

The more Malysa studied her past dealings, the more she saw how much rope she'd been given to hang herself with. In her quest to become the most powerful woman on Elshandruu Pica she had made an awful lot of enemies, and while some had died or left the sector, others had bided their time and searched for more powerful allies. It seemed that many of them had sought out Tursoa.

_If that's even your real name. Where did you come from?_

She had only heard of Tursoa in the last two or three years. In that time his name had become a depressing one. None of her contacts could find out which gang he was heading up, or if he was allied with a gang at all. No one knew what he wanted, other than general power, which was too broad a topic to focus on. There was no telling how many people he had working for him, or where they might be. In a short time he had become a criminal mastermind capable of taking everything she had worked for away from her. That he had already tried was proof enough that her fears were justified.

"Madam?" a voice called from her desk.

Malysa jumped. Had the time gone that fast? She picked up the offending comlink. "Yes, Kariti?"

"Your guests are here, madam."

"Thank you. Send them up to my office, and see if they would like anything to drink," she answered.

Part of preparing for war—and this _was _war, whether fought on a battlefield or not—was knowing who your allies were. Malysa was prepared to buy a few more of her own if it meant keeping Tursoa out of her affairs.

She gathered together her datacards and waited a long five minutes before a Zabrak couple—two brothers, if she remembered correctly—entered. They stood uncertainly for a moment before she smiled and gestured to the chairs in front of her desk. "Please, take a seat," she said.

They did, all the while eyeing the riches displayed throughout the office. Malysa didn't exactly flaunt her wealth, but she did like comfort and elegance, and it showed in the things with which she chose to surround herself. She noted the Zabraks' clothing with interest. Clearly, her interference had not done them any financial good in the past. It was time to rectify that.

"I'll get right to the point," she said. "I feel that I have wronged you both. You went bankrupt because your catering business could not keep up, correct?"

"Yes," one of them said slowly. He was shorter than his brother. "But that is just business. It's the way things work. What does it have to do with you?"

"I own the companies that put you out of business," she said frankly. "And I will be honest. I told my companies to undersell you. I, and some of the others on the board, felt that your business, as small as it seemed, was a significant threat. So we drove you out. We cut prices. We took short-term losses for long-term gains. We did everything we could to make sure you would be ruined if you continued to operate."

They were both glaring at her now. "We figured that out for ourselves, thank you," the taller one said, his voice all ice. "Your reputation precedes you, you know. But that still doesn't answer the question of why you wanted to see us today."

Now came the strike. "I want to offer you jobs."

There was a moment of silence in which they just stared. Malysa stared back into their yellow eyes for a few heartbeats, and then she explained.

"One of my resorts has received failing reviews for a year now," she said. "The staff are excellent, but the food is not, and that is driving customers away. I have approached the head chefs several times, and they have no interest in changing the way they do things. They need new management, and I think you two would be excellent for the task.

"Like I said, I feel that we wronged you. You have considerable talent. I have tasted your recipes myself; they're all excellent. If you took my offer, you would be able to cook to your hearts' content. The resort has guests full-time, as well as a restaurant and a catering service. I have full details here." She handed them the data cards.

It was fun to watch the way certain beings reacted to surprise. The brothers, eyes wide, perused the data and glanced at each other. She could tell before they said a word that she had won.

"This is…unexpected," the short one said. But he didn't look as if he wanted to say no.

"We will have to look at all the arrangements," the tall one said. "And speak with our attorney. But this does look promising. Could we give you an answer next week?"

"Take your time," Malysa said silkily. "I know you have received other offers…but I doubt any will be this good. You can reach my secretary any time."

"Thank you," the shorter one said. "We'll…well, we'll be in touch." They made a hasty exit. They were almost out of earshot when Malysa heard a whoop of joy.

_That is how you play the game,_ she thought to herself. _You can't beat this offer, Tursoa. They'll come to me…and it'll be because I offered them what they wanted, and not because they were desperate._

She knew for a fact that Tursoa had approached them with a business offer, and that his deal had included a scheme to embarrass her—or even incapacitate her. Chefs could easily engineer fatal food poisoning. Malysa was confident that these two would stay in her camp, at least for now. If Mariya had taught her one thing, it was that hope was a better motivator than fear. Two more out of Tursoa's grasp—even lowly cooks—meant two less that would come after her later.

"Kariti, is the next appointment here?" she asked.

"Yes, madam. Would you like me to send them up?"

"Please. Let's keep this day busy," she said. Busy days now would mean fewer sleepless nights later, when she had to worry about a knife in her back.

That was her theory. She hoped it would work.

* * *

Aryn had spent the morning watching a tropical paradise outside the windows of her rented transport. She could have saved this until later and joined Maris and Kale for some relaxation, but business had to come first, and that had led her here to this dump. She was not happy about missing time with her family as she counted the credits one of Tursoa's goons handed her. She was even less happy about being ripped off.

"You owe me five hundred, Tursoa. Where's the other three-fifty?"

The shabby tapcaf in which Aryn found herself was as far removed from paradise as it was possible to be. She pushed the thoughts of her family out of her head for now. Her mother and Kale were here to enjoy themselves, but she was here to work. And she did not work for free...or cheap.

Tursoa—a light-skinned human, balding and fifty-ish—stared up at her, coolly noting Aryn's hand inching toward her blaster. "I wouldn't do that," he said. "The last one that tried it had ... an _unpleasant_ end with our organization."

Aryn wasn't afraid, though she knew she should be. By all accounts Tursoa was mostly talk and commanded only a fraction of Elshandruu Pica's criminal underworld, but he was shrewd and dangerous in the way of a glass snake: no one saw him coming, and by the time they noticed the bite they were already dead.

"You heard me. The job was for five hundred. I finished it in less time than you expected. If anything, that deserves a bonus, not a reduced fee." She tried to keep her head. She would get nowhere if she started shouting.

"Ah, but we wanted her...undamaged," Tursoa said, leaning forward on his elbows. "And she did not arrive in that condition."

Aryn raised an eyebrow that no one could see under her _buy'ce_. _So that's the game he's going to play, huh?_

"You wanted her within a month," she said, leaning forward slightly to rest her hands on the table. "I gave her to you in a week and a half with nothing more than a bruised forehead. If that's the way you want to do business, I heard the Kelis brothers are offering 400..."

Tursoa stiffened, though it was barely noticeable. "That will not be necessary."

Aryn held her ground. "It will be if I don't see the rest of my pay here within two minutes. I didn't come to play games."

Tursoa blinked slowly, then turned to a scrawny Devaronian sitting next to him. "Go and fetch the rest of our guest's credits." The Devaronian scowled at Aryn, but went to the back without a word.

"Please forgive me. It must have been an accounting error," Tursoa said lazily.

_Like you think I'm dumb enough to believe that. How many _dikut'e _accept your money without checking? _

"While we are waiting for the rest of your well-earned credits—with a bonus, as you suggested—we shall discuss the next bit of work I would like you to do for me," Tursoa said, rubbing his hands together expectantly.

Aryn didn't like the sound of that at all, but she held her tongue.

"Please, sit," Tursoa said, indicating the seat across from him. Aryn sat carefully so that she could see his hands and the door. Tursoa pulled a datapad out of a briefcase and laid it on the table delicately. A woman's face—fierce, light-skinned, and wearing the haughty look of a person in charge—appeared on the display.

"This woman is Anamalysa Cordorvor. She is, for all intents and purposes, the leader of Elshandruu Pica."

Aryn knew what that meant. "She runs the health resorts, then."

Tursoa glanced at her slightly. "Perceptive."

"I have a feeling I'm not going to like this. What has she done that deserves your wrath?"

The crime boss eyed her keenly. "And why do you need to know?"

Aryn shook her head. "This is a high-profile target that will disrupt an economy. I need details."

Tursoa kept the same casual look upon his face. "You asked for no such details when we asked you to bring us Syilena."

"You didn't ask me to bring Syilena. Or did you just forget that you put out a general bounty?" Aryn asked, voice thick with sarcasm. "I already knew about her. Half the sector knows the heists she pulled. The only reason you got her first was because you paid the most." Aryn didn't mention the pain Syilena had caused her friends. The woman deserved whatever hospitality Tursoa had in mind for her, but Tursoa himself didn't need to know that.

They were interrupted when the Devaronian returned with a small stack of credits. He watched with contempt while Aryn counted and added it to the amount in her belt pouch before slinking away to his seat.

The crime boss looked Aryn over, seeming to decide how much information she could be trusted to keep quiet. Making up his mind, he finally said, "We require some..._services_ that only she can authorize. She has refused; she seems to think it would not profit her or her businesses. Or, perhaps she is simply a woman who recently developed a sense of business ethics. When we unearthed some embarrassing evidence about her past business actions, particularly in regards to the spas she currently runs admirably, we thought she would be more amenable to out plans. However, she took the matter public herself, removing the hold we had on her."

_Wow. She got out of blackmail? _If this Cordorvor woman ran the health resorts, she would not only receive a pretty penny of the profits; she would have the control over the majority shares of each in the sector stock exchange, all of which were worth considerable sums of money.

_If this woman has survived in business this long she probably saw you coming._ Taking any past scandals to the press herself was brilliant. Get a few witnesses to say how much she'd changed, promise aid to any families she put out on the streets...it'd be a feel-good story for the media that most of the population wouldn't bat an eye at. Cordorvor clearly wasn't someone to be trifled with.

"We have a few people in place who can take advantage of her sudden..._absence _from the business scene. However, we first need you to _provide _us with her absence."

A pit settled in Aryn's stomach, and she had to fight to keep her voice steady. "You mean you want me to assassinate her. Please skip the euphemisms."

"As I said before," Tursoa said. "Perceptive."

It was time to leave this outfit. Aryn worked with tech; she didn't do assassinations! She never should have come here. She should have stuck with the Kellis brothers; at least she knew them. She settled for shaking her head emphatically and saying, "You'd have to give me a very good reason."

Tursoa raised one eyebrow lazily, but everyone in the room could sense the subtle shift in his mood. The man wasn't a sabaac player...and now he was very ticked off.

"I offer you work, and you refuse," he said softly, almost whispering. "Do you not think much of my..._hospitality_?" Aryn was suddenly aware of all the beings glancing her way, many with their hands on blasters. This was going to be uncomfortable.

"You said I'm perceptive," Aryn said. "And you're right; I know that killing this woman isn't just another job. It's not like bringing back some scumbag that had it coming. I know enough about local conditions to see that if I do this, it could very well end up causing a civil war. While I am sure you would be well-placed to take advantage of that, I have enough of a conscience to want to stay clear of this business."

Tursoa's eyes had turned to chips of ice. "It will be done regardless."

"I don't have to be the one to do it," Aryn said. She deeply regretted doing business with this man in the first place. Why had she come back here? "What others do is of no concern to me."

Her opponent cupped his chin in one hand, still glaring daggers at her. "So...it would not concern you if some of my men dispatched of your family then. They are here on the planet, are they not?"

Aryn thought she would be sick. She had definitely underestimated what this bastard was capable of.

"You touch my mother, Tursoa, and no amount of thugs will be able to save you from me," she warned.

"Ah, but I thought you did not care what others do?"

Aryn had to fight to control the urge to punch him. Tursoa was having _fun._

"I care very much when you threaten my family. You harm my _aliit,_ you harm me."

Tursoa nodded slowly. "Good. Then I believe we can do business."

"I thought I already told you no," Aryn countered.

"Yes, that you did...but you will reconsider my offer on the condition that, if you take it, no harm will come to your family."

_Shab. _Was he bluffing?

"You're full of _osik,_ Tursoa." He might not be, but it was worth a try.

He dropped all semblance of charm and stood to look her in the eye, as if he could see right through the helmet. It was unnerving.

"Your mother and your associate Kale are at the Uliorian Health Resort in the Elshiol grid," he said silkily. "I have at least fifty-seven employees within ten kilometers of the place...and any comlinks you have were jammed within moments of you coming into this room. It will be a pity that you were not able to warn them of any impending accidents, since you will not be able to contact them until the job is done," he finished, almost growling with menace. "You cannot come here, to my establishment, and make threats. You are in _my_ arena, and will follow _my_ rules."

Aryn thought about killing him then and there. They had searched her for weapons, sure, but the thug at the door hadn't even bothered to check her gauntlet. Tursoa was standing close. She could gut him before any of his people could act. But then what would she do? Fighting her way through fifty armed guards and assorted passers-by wasn't in the recipe for a long and happy life, and there were plenty of ways they could harm her family before she could get clear to comm them. And what if Tursoa was completely serious? If he had as many employees as he claimed, she could find blocked comms all over the planet.

A minute passed, then another, as Aryn considered all her options. In the end there was only one she could take.

"Very well. I'll do it. But I want half now, and an additional two thousand when it's done."

Tursoa relaxed, except for his eyes. They were still icy. "You presume too much. The half now I will agree to. But I will not go above five hundred extra."

"Fifteen hundred."

"One thousand."

"Deal."

Aryn shook his hand, feeling as she did so that she was sealing her own doom.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"Kale, this was a great idea," Maris said. "My muscles feel like rubber. I haven't felt this relaxed since…well, ever."

They were sitting in lounge chairs next to a lake sparkling in the late-afternoon sunlight. The lake was probably artificial, but that didn't make the landscape any less breathtaking. Kale agreed with Maris completely. Comfort for the sake of comfort was not one of her trademarks, but after a deep tissue massage she realized that she might have been missing out. Their kind of lifestyle was incredibly rough on the body, and she wasn't getting any younger.

"I know Aryn was amazed that I thought like a female for once, but it's worth it. You haven't been yourself. You needed a break. _We _needed a break. All this espionage and smuggling and constant worrying does a number on you after a while." Seeing her sister smile—and she would always be her sister, blood or not—was a nice change. "As soon as Aryn gets here we'll force her into one of those massage booths."

"Sounds good."

They sat in sleepy silence for a few moments. Both had the proximity alarms primed on their helmets, so they wouldn't be taken by surprise if someone decided to sneak up on them.

"Kale?"

"Hmm?" she asked

"I know you've been skirting around it to spare my feelings, but can we please talk about why we're really here? I heard you making calls last night. I made some, too. And if Aryn didn't as well then I don't know my daughter."

Kale sat up a little straighter, sleepiness forgotten.

"I got in touch with an old friend who owns a speeder rental service. He hasn't worked here for more than three or four months, but he bought the business from someone who was here several years. That man kept good records, and when I asked my friend to run a search…he found one of Les's aliases."

Maris's posture didn't change, but something inside her snapped. Suddenly she wasn't on vacation anymore. She was a detective with an axe to grind, and she had a lead. "Which name did he use? How did he pay? What part of the planet is this on?"

"It's here in the Elshiol Grid, but it's a few cities over to the west—a place called Fredas. His identichip said Wes Randil. The first name was close enough that he would turn if someone called him, I guess. And I don't know his accounts by heart, but I think this number comes from Eriadu." She pulled her gauntlet out of a large satchel that contained her armor. Most of the tourists had given her and Maris odd looks for bringing such large bags to the lakeshore, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Besides, her gauntlets were too handy to leave in a hotel room. She flipped open a small display screen and pulled up the information her friend had sent her.

Maris glanced over it quickly. "Yes, this is based off Eriadu, and that's odd. That bank account is supposed to be for emergencies only. We both used untraceable creds whenever we could, and when we couldn't, we used one of the accounts Aryn set up. You know, the ones that move around? The account number was always the same, but she had it on a program that moved it from bank to bank. It's brilliant. We should have her set you up with a couple." She looked at the report a moment longer. "Yes, this is strange. The Eriadu account is the only steady one. It's also the only _legitimate_ one. That means that either he was dealing with the law and didn't want them to know about the other accounts…or that the other accounts were compromised."

"Would you have noticed if they were?" Kale asked.

Maris pursed her lips. "Maybe, maybe not. It would depend on who's looking for what. If someone were changing things we'd definitely notice. But if they were just watching, seeing where money was spent or how often we made transactions…I'd have to ask Aryn. Financial hacking is her forte."

"Okay, so we know something was off about the way Les spent money. What did _you_ find out?" Kale asked.

Maris pursed her lips. "Not much. All I got was a name. Have you ever heard of anyone called Ludessa?"

"Ludessa?" Kale repeated. "Male or female?"

"Female Arkanian offshoot. Fled her homeworld for somewhere more hospitable to her type, though apparently she got the full Arkanian dose of snootiness."

"No surprise there."

"No one seems to know for sure who she works for … but I heard that she was with Les the last time someone saw him alive."

Kale sighed in frustration. "I just wish we knew what he came here to _do_. It would make it easier to find things out."

Maris sat thoughtfully for a moment, finger tapping on her lips. "I think Les got a job and got paid something up front for it. But somewhere along the way things went wrong. Les was pretty ethical for one of our bunch. He didn't kill if he could help it. Maybe he got conned into an assassination he couldn't go through with. Maybe he botched a job and was going to give the money back, and someone decided they would rather just kill him. Or maybe he got into gang activity, or mixed up with the pirates around the planet. It could have been an accident, but the more I'm finding out, the more I'm doubting that."

Kale shook her head. "Maris, I'm not following your train of thought. Spell it out for the simple pilot, please."

"Okay. Scenario one: his death was an accident, meaning that it was not premeditated. This is unlikely because of what _you _found out about his account activity. He left for here with plenty of credits, he wasn't the gambling type, and there would have to have been extreme circumstances at work for him to access the Eriadu account. Are you with me so far?"

"Okay. Accidental death is ruled out." Kale shuddered a little. "I don't understand how you can talk about it like this, Maris."

Maris stared across the water, finger tapping her lips again. "I … I pretend it wasn't me," she said softly. "It wasn't me, and it wasn't my Les, and it didn't make my daughter go crazy. That's the only way I can treat it like any other investigation." She shook herself out of contemplation. Kale could only guess at the amount of effort it took. "Okay: scenario two. He was working with the lawful government and with law-abiding citizens. That would possibly explain the Eriadu account, because it's the only legitimate one we have. The government wouldn't pay in untraceable credits, now would they? And Les was never good at laundering money. That's why Aryn did it for us whenever it needed doing."

"Your girl's a genius, you know."

Maris smiled with pride. "Oh, I know. I wish I knew where she came by that talent. But anyways. If Les was working for the government, he could have been killed while fighting a gang or while working over the pirates in the system. The pirates been quiet for a while, but that doesn't mean they're not still here. They're probably waiting for everyone here to get nice and complacent again. In this case, his death might not have been premeditated, but it seems just as likely that he made some enemies that wanted him out of the way."

"Okay. I'm still with you," Kale said. "Do we have a scenario three?"

"We have dozens of scenarios. Number three is that he was working with a gang, things got out of hand, and they killed him to get him out of the way." Maris wasn't as cool about this as she was pretending. Kale could see her fist balling up at her side.

"And scenario four—"

But Maris was interrupted by static on her comlink.

"What the…"

Kale listened. There were breaks in the static. In fact, it sounded deliberate, as if someone was making a pattern…

"Maris! It's _dadita!_"

They listened intently until the message repeated. Kale translated softly. "Aryn here … problem with Tursoa … another job …Cordorvor estate … watch for trouble … will need extraction … they know you're here."

The message repeated a third time, and then ceased. Kale looked at Maris and found worried eyes staring back at her.

"I think the vacation's over. Back to the ship?" she said.

"Agreed. Should we even grab our bags?" Maris asked.

Kale shook her head. "We only left toiletries. It's the 'they know you're here' part that makes me nervous. Let's get out of here." They each grabbed their satchels and helmets and walked away from the resort, doing their best to look like tourists off to lunch.

They were done being guests here, if they ever really had been tourists at all.

* * *

It was times like this when Aryn really valued her upbringing.

Things looked bad and were probably going to get worse, but that's when she always seemed to excel. Her parents had taught her how. She could feel adrenaline spiking as she sat down with the Devaronian aide to go over Tursoa's plan, and she knew that she was in survival mode.

"There're only twelve security guards," he said. "They work together, four in a shift. They split up the estate between the four of 'em. A man named Kaisul is working tonight, and since he works for the boss, you won't have to worry about alarms or anyone getting in your way. It'll be a simple in-and-out operation."

"If this man already works for Tursoa, why isn't he doing this job himself?" Aryn asked.

"He's too convenient. And he has too many ties back to the boss. That's why you're going to stun him on your way in, after he's called in that all is well. He has a part to play, but it's more concerned with acting."

It made sense, she supposed. But something still smelled rotten.

"Now. Thanks to our friend Kaisul, we have a security pass that'll get you access to the grounds. It'll be traced to the company that does the upkeep on the lawns and gardens, which, interestingly enough, has connections to one of the pirate gangs in the asteroid belt. That'll help lay a false trail, and the boss has a bunch more in case that one fails. Once you're inside the estate, go here, to one of the west entrances." He tapped a doorway on the holographic blueprint projected on the table in front of him. "This east entrance is the quickest way to the area where Cordorvor would normally be sleeping, but honestly, she's more likely to be in her office."

Aryn studied the blueprint carefully. The entire mansion was only two stories, and the layout seemed simple enough. There were plenty of exits, too. She knew that getting in would be the easy part. Getting out alive and free would take more skill. "Is this up-to-date?" she asked.

"Straight from the house's security system. We could see it in real time, too, if we wanted."

"Who else is typically in the house?" Aryn asked.

"A few servants and droids. All of 'em but the butler go home in the evening. There might be a few cleaning droids around, but if Kaisul did his job right, you won't have to worry about him."

"You put a lot of faith in Kaisul," Aryn observed.

"That's because his wife is poodoo if he doesn't do what we tell him."

Aryn's gut clenched again.

"Before you knock Kaisul out—and make it convincing, would you?—he'll tell you where Cordorvor is. He'll be able to track her on the security cameras she doesn't know exist. Just find her, kill her, and get out. Come to the coordinates we give you, we'll pay you, and hopefully you can be on your merry way."

The alarm that had been ringing in Aryn's head went off even more shrilly. It was the "hopefully" that did it.

_They don't expect me to go through with it._

Aryn didn't know why the thought hit her with such certainty, but she was instantly sure that she was correct. Somehow this was a setup. They were planning on letting her get caught, or they were going to find some other way to threaten her and keep her on the planet.

_Tursoa's right, _she thought reluctantly. _I'm out of my league. I'm borked no matter which way you look at it._

_Am I really just a dumb kid?_

She quickly slapped down her thoughts. If she doubted herself she would give Tursoa a much greater weapon.

"Any questions?" the Devaronian asked.

"Is it just going to be me?"

"No. Someone will guide you to the estate, and someone else will wait for you to finish the job. He'll bring you to the rendezvous where you'll be paid. Anything else?"

"Yes. What's your name?"

The Devaronian stuck his tongue out at her, nearly brushing it against her helmet. "None of your business."

"No other questions, then."

The Devaronian tossed some credits at her. "We can't move for a few more hours, and you're not leaving here until it's time to go, so get some food. Have a few drinks. Whatever." He extricated himself from the booth and walked away without a backward glance.

Aryn replayed the conversation with Tursoa over in her head again. She should have left before he offered her other work. She should have brought Syilena somewhere else, to deal with people she knew well...or at least trusted more.

She shouldn't have gotten greedy.

But there was really no point dwelling on the past. What was done was done. Now she had to focus on getting out of this alive.

She really didn't want to kill Anamalysa Cordovor. It didn't matter if she was good or bad, ethical or not; this woman was de facto ruler of Elshandruu Pica, and her death would have serious ramifications. Aryn hadn't been exaggerating when she told Tursoa that this could start a civil war. The planet was peaceful at first glance, but just like a volcano, there was turbulence beneath the surface. Any war here wouldn't involve blasters so much as economics...but the innocent beings who just lived here, the spa workers and janitors and minor bureaucrats, would be in the crossfire no matter what form things took.

There was no good way out of this. What had she gotten herself into?

Aryn spent the next couple of hours reviewing the blueprints and searching for an unblocked comm channel. She also took the opportunity to eat, since someone else was paying for it. The tapcaf lived up to her standards: the grimier the appearance, the better the food. A variety of beings made their way in and out, but none approached her. She guessed it was the armor that did it. Maybe she looked standoffish.

It was easy to lose herself in planning, but she glanced up periodically to watch the other patrons. There was a certain attitude among some of them that made her nervous; it was almost as if they recognized her. Her mother and Kale had been to the planet before, but she'd been on Nar Shadaa at the time. Why would she look familiar? She brushed the thought aside for now. She could investigate later.

The longer she studied the layout, the more convinced she was that there was a way out of this. She might not even have to kill the Cordorvor woman. She just had to find a way to warn her family and get out before they realized she was gone. But what if they were also jamming her family's comm channels? She'd have to get someone else's comlink to find out. She was a fair pickpocket; she could just get up to use the 'fresher and bump into someone on the way—

"Hello there," a pleasant voice said.

Aryn turned slowly to face the greeting's speaker. "Can I help you?"

An Arkanian woman sauntered over to her booth and took a seat, silver eyes taking in the clan sigils painted on Aryn's armor. "Probably not. I'm just being friendly."

Arkanians were _never _friendly. They were among the most stuck-up species she had ever met. "Sure you are. I looked lonely, did I?"

The woman brushed silver hair out of her eyes, revealing pointed ears. _Ah. She's not pure Arkanian. _"Everyone can use company sometimes in a new place. And building relationships is important, you know."

"What's your name?" Aryn asked.

She brushed the question aside. "My name is not germane to the conversation. But relationships…oh yes." She leaned forward casually and dropped something on the table. It looked like…a signal disruptor?

The woman whispered, "I knew your father."

She suddenly had Aryn's full attention.

"It was the height of recklessness to come here without changing your names. Tursoa knows exactly who you are, and he's out to get you because of what your father did. The job he wants you to do? It doesn't matter if you succeed or not. You will get caught, and he'll implicate your family, too. He makes plans within plans within plans so that he gets the outcome he wants no matter what."

Aryn felt breathless. "How did you know my father? What did he do?"

The woman shook her head, feigning a nonchalant attitude for any onlookers. "Not important right now. Just know that I made him a promise that I'd look out for you if you came here. No one can hear our conversation, but I can't keep this up or it'll come up suspicious. They're jamming your signal, yes?"

"Yeah."

"I can give you a two-minute window. They'll be able to hear anything you send … but Mandalorians have their own way around that, don't they?"

Aryn was glad the woman couldn't see her shock. She'd never met an _aruetii _who knew about _dadita._

"After I get up, give me ten minutes. Then try to get a message out. Make it short."

Aryn nodded. "Thank you. We'll have to talk again."

The woman brushed silver hair out of her eyes again. "It would be better if we didn't. And if we meet again, you had better not recognize me." She slipped out of the booth and strolled away, stopping to flirt with the bartender on her way out. Aryn settled in to wait ten minutes and drafted a short message in her head.

No one in his right mind would use something as ancient as _dadita _to communicate. It was slow. It was hard to memorize. Very few knew or could understand it. In other words, it was perfect for trying to get a small message smuggled out under the noses of people who were watching her every move. How had this woman known about it? Aryn's only explanation was that it had come from her father. But how had the woman known _him_? It was infuriating to be so close to someone who had answers, but still so far from the truth.

Ten minutes was a long time, and two minutes was not long enough to send a detailed message in _dadita._ She would have to do the best she could if and when the window opened. Hopefully her family would be standing by.

Nine minutes … ten … eleven … and then, the static cleared. Aryn breathed a sigh of relief and commed her mother. She wished more than anything that she could just talk to her.

"_Aryn here … problem with Tursoa … another job …Cordorvor estate … watch for trouble … will need extraction … they know you're here."_

She was repeating the message when she saw the Devaronian approaching. _Not now ... come on, give me another minute …_

He slipped into the booth and tapped the blueprints. "Time to meet your escorts for the party," he said, tongue flickering. Aryn wished she could read Devaronian body language, but not as much as she wished for one more minute to herself. She struggled to focus long enough to repeat the message again and answer the statement at the same time.

But then the static returned. _Problem solved, _she thought bitterly.

"If this is what you call a party, I'd hate to see a full-out Republic Day celebration," Aryn said.

He ignored her. "Dark is in two hours. You need to be in position before the shift change at the estate. You ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Aryn said. She took a deep breath and stood up. "Let's go."

* * *

Night fell swiftly around the Cordorvor estate. There was little external illumination, and the light from the three moons gave the gardens an exotic, almost primitive feel. There were certain things that just made a world _alien_, and Aryn decided this scene was one of them. The tropical gardens were beautiful, but they would never be familiar or welcoming.

"Here's your stop," her guide whispered. Aryn wondered where Tursoa had found him. He was just a human kid—eleven, maybe twelve years old. _Not that I'm much older, _she thought.

"All the security holocams are showing a loop right now. The gate's ten meters further down. From there it's a straight path to the house. Kaisul will meet you there."

"Thanks, kid."

"No problem, lady." He scampered off into the street and was out of sight before Aryn could look back.

Aryn had often heard that a home reflected the owner's state of mind, and within a few moments she decided that Anamalysa Cordorvor was pleasant but could be domineering. The grounds were beautiful even at nighttime, and the scent was nice enough, but Aryn had a feeling that the vibrant colors and pungent odors would be overpowering during the daytime. The house, too, looked quite comfortable, but it was much larger than most mansions she had seen. The architecture itself seemed to want to make anything entering it look smaller.

She hoped she wouldn't have to kill the woman. She would be sorry if she did without seeing if her estimations matched.

Gaining entry to the grounds was so simple it scared her. Jobs were never supposed to go this smoothly. She met no one on her way through the gardens, and, as promised, a man was waiting for her at the east entrance.

"Kaisul?" she whispered from the shadows. She wasn't about to walk out in the open before she had to.

"She's in her office," he whispered. The poor man looked absolutely terrified. "You know the way?"

"Yes," she whispered back. "Now call in."

"Not yet," he whispered back. "Wait 'til they call me first."

Aryn watched as he completed what looked like a routine security check on the door. He finished checking some readouts and slammed a cover shut right as his comlink chirped.

"Kaisul, report in," a tinny voice said.

"All's well," Kaisul said. Aryn had to give him props for acting. All nervousness had disappeared from his face and voice; only his shaking hands gave it away. "Just finished the check on door W-5; everything looks good. Kaisul out." Aryn took that as her cue to step out of the foliage. When Kaisul turned around he yelped and promptly dropped to his knees.

"Please don't kill me," he gasped, holding his hands up in surrender. "My wife … there's no one else to take care of her …"

"Relax," Aryn said. "It's set on stun." And she shot him.

Blue arcs raced across his body and laid him out prone. Aryn dragged him out of the way and stepped through the still-disarmed doorway.

The ease with which she made her way through the house was downright alarming. Sure it was an inside job, but in a house this big wouldn't she run into _something?_ She made her way to the stairwell—she wouldn't risk taking the turbolift—and climbed to the second floor, where the office was.

Aryn paused before she stepped out. _Am I really going to do this? _She had never killed anyone before. She had no idea how she would feel afterward. But why was she even considering it? She should just stun the woman to make it look like she did _something_, dodge the guide, and get into the city to try to find the ship. Surely they couldn't block her signal all over the city.

A light suddenly blinked in her helmet. She had a message.

_What the …?_

She opened it. It was text only, from Tursoa.

_We're watching you._

_Shab._

How had she forgotten? Somehow Tursoa had placed all kinds of holocams throughout the estate. He could see her right now. He could see her if she bolted.

He would definitely see if she only stunned Cordorvor instead of killed her.

_Shab. Shab, shab, _shab…

But wait. Were her comms unblocked?

She quickly tried her mother's channel. The relief that flooded through her when she heard Maris's voice almost made her go weak at the knees.

"Aryn! Where are you? What's going on?"

This was no time for _dadita. _They'd have to take their chances and hope that Tursoa and company didn't know _Mando'a._

"_Ma, I'm in the Cordorvor estate. They want me to kill her. They're watching me. As soon as I get out of here I need extraction. How close are you?"_

"_We're at the docking bay five minutes west of there," _Maris said. _"Can you make it?"_

Aryn could have cried with relief. "See you soon," she said in Basic. She could get there, surely!

But could she go through with killing Anamalysa Cordorvor?

She thought again of Tursoa's message. _We're watching you._ He was sure to have measures in place if she didn't finish what she'd started.

Either way, she couldn't stand here on this staircase anymore.

She edged into the hall.

The plush carpeting stilled any sound of her footsteps as she approached the office. Apparently the door was open, because she could see light streaming out into the otherwise dark hallway. Aryn felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead. She peeked into the doorway. Cordorvor was buried in her work.

Aryn took a deep breath. _We're watching you. _Her hand was shaking, but her blaster was in it … she was aiming …

"Hey!"

Aryn turned and instinctively fired a shot at the noise. Luckily she missed, because the shout came from a young woman in nightclothes no older than her. Out of the corner of her HUD she saw the Cordorvor woman glance up. _Shab!_

Cordorvor was instantly up and running at her … and she had a blaster in hand.

It was time to go.

"Mariya, get security!" Cordorvor shouted as Aryn sprinted down the hallway. A blaster bolt shaved too close for comfort. This woman was a good shot! "Get out of my house!" she shouted at Aryn. "And don't you dare touch my daughter!"

_Daughter? They never said she had a kid!_

_Think about it later…_

The nearest exit was close. She could be out the west entrance again in no time. If only she stayed a step ahead of security … if only she could dodge whoever Tursoa had waiting for her …

The stairs flew underneath her feet. She was running through a parlor, then a kitchen … she was out the door …

Another blaster bolt just missed her head and lit a fire in a tree as she raced past. The west gate was thirty meters away …

_Umph!_

Her breath went out in a rush. One of the security guards had tackled her and knocked her to the ground. A carefully placed elbow put him down for the count, and an added kick to the groin made sure he stayed there. She kept moving. She was out the gate …

She'd seen the small landing bay on her way to the estate. It was a tiny thing with only two or three docking bays; she'd suspected that it owed its existence to Cordorvor. She was so close.

And then police speeders were closing in.

_No…_

There were at least three of them coming from behind. She could see another two up ahead. She dodged down an alley and looked around for a fire escape. _There _…

Aryn jumped a meter to catch the ladder and hauled herself up. The roof wasn't very high, but maybe if she could get a little higher, Kale could get close.

She opened her comm again. "Ma! Things have gotten hairy!"

"Where are you?" she asked urgently.

"Close. Rooftop, not far from the docking bay. How quickly can you lift off?" she panted.

"We already have clearance. Hang on, we're coming!"

Aryn was almost there …

Then the world exploded in pain, and she went down.

One of the cops had followed her onto the rooftop. She could still see her blaster aimed at her. Aryn tried to stand, but the cop was good; she'd aimed for her left calf, right above the top of her boot.

She could hear the ship coming.

But now there were three more cops, and her vision was getting blurry from the pain …

"Ma?" she said, gritting her teeth. "I'm down. They've got me. Get out, okay?"

"Absolutely not!"

But she could see six more coming onto the roof. "There's ten cops up here! I can't run! _Get out!_"

Aryn thought she heard a sob, then realized it was her own. She was so _close._ But now she was in stun cuffs, and a female Arkanian had taken her blaster …

_Wait. I know her._

The ship screamed by overhead, and she blacked out.


End file.
